DaoistaZyurL

In a world where brute strength and divine bloodlines determine destiny, Mo Han is reborn in a frail body—without Qi, with a shattered dantian, and a social status lower than trash.

Humiliated by his own clan, tortured by cruel traditions, and discarded as a genetic mistake, Mo Han seems doomed to insignificance.
But what no one expected was that he wouldn’t seek power through fists.
He would seek patterns.

With the mind of a scientist and the traumas of a survivor, Mo Han discovers that cultivation can be rewritten—not through energy, but through logic.
Pain becomes data. Failure, a formula.
And every defeat... a simulation.

On his solitary and ruthless path, he will face arrogant prodigies, dogmatic sects, and even the very limits of sanity.
Because when everything is taken from you, only one thing remains:

"Calculate. And survive."

The Engineer of Broken Souls

Mo Han climbed in silence through the galleries leading back to the upper levels of the prison.Every step was calculated, but unhurried.After the Resonance, time seemed slower—or perhaps he simply perceived it differently now.His body still ached, dried sweat marked his torn tunic, and his eyes—darker now—captured every shift in light with predatory precision.

Behind him, the Room Without Voices fell silent once more,as if it had never existed.

On his way back, he noticed something odd:the sounds of the prison were... different.The scattered moans, muffled fights, furtive footsteps—all seemed more distant.Or... more cautious.

Three prisoners watched him from the shadows of a forked corridor.Thin. Crusted with grime. Sunken eyes.One trembled.Another fell to his knees upon seeing him.

— "He returned…" whispered the eldest, his voice like wet stone.

Mo Han stopped.He observed them with mathematical calm.

— "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The youngest tried to answer but sobbed.The old one bowed lower, forehead pressed into the moss.

— "Because you disappeared.Because you entered where others went mad.And came back… different."

The man pointed to the air around him.It felt lighter—as if gravity had forgotten to pull that part of the world.The air seemed… to obey.

— "When you pass, we feel less fear.But also more... emptiness.As if you took some part of us with you."

Another prisoner, eyes swollen, muttered:

— "He carries the prison's hunger.But he does not hunger."

Mo Han said nothing.He simply continued walking.

In the hours that followed, it repeated.

Prisoners who once avoided him now followed from afar.Some whispered strange prayers.Others simply watched him—eyes caught between fear and reverence.They began calling him The Living Void, or He Who Listened.

But he heard them.

Deep down, he knew what was happening.The energy around him was now different.Harmonized.The prison—made of chaos—recognized it as an anomaly.The others felt it…but didn't understand.

They see a miracle.But it's just logic—applied at the molecular level.

This isn't magic.This is vibrational engineering.

But as he thought that, Mo Han felt something strange.A twinge.An echo.

Alone, in an isolated gallery, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Am I becoming arrogant?Or am I truly becoming something they can no longer follow?

A memory came to him.Himself, as a child, feverish, trembling in a dark room.Struggling to breathe.No one came for him that night.

I don't want to be worshiped.I want to understand.

He exhaled.Reorganized his thoughts.Created a new mental rune: Silence of Purpose.An inner barrier to avoid getting lost in the eyes of others.

As he reopened his eyes,he heard a whisper from the stone.

It was the prison.

And now,it was watching him too.

Those Who Feel the Void